How many times have I gotta prove i'm sick
With these lyrics and shit
Flows are all mad
How many times have I gotta shoot this mac
Had a n***as chest plate to watch his whole frame collapse
How many times
Have I gotta smoke a spliff to forget about the dramas that are happening
How many songs have I gotta make until I blow
You don’t like my shit go suck your dad
I write what gets me gassed
Still that little n***a on the backs
Two sacks of weed in me pocket bout to shot them both to Max
Still in the trap counting stacks
Weather its bud tho or swag tho or money of the hash
When me doughs low I get an oz of each and hit the trap
Come back and buy bud and make a few flips like that
I've got me hands in all pies I pick and choose what I hop into
Could have the swag phone booming but the punters are all boppin to me music Scousematic it’s a mad ting
Tryna shot them something and they're talking bout
Aren’t you that rap king from pool it must be you
I'm like nah its not so what you want 2 in 2
N***a this is bait
I had to phone my mate
Like yo jump on this George for me till I see me other mate (nice one g)
Punters talking bout ya gonna blow
I'm like save it bro what the fuck you no about this music g
Your smoking on dope
Holes in your clothes
You need to swerve that before you talk to me about some visions and goals
And all other tings to b achieved
He said 'I nah I fucked up, but don’t be like me and fuck up'
I said I ain't tryna be like you but imma take that advice and give this rap ting ago
Cus if it pulls of i'm nice true i'm nice with the flow
Plus i've got game i'll run right through your hoe
So don’t have her slipping round me
I'll have her dripping down b
And then stripping down when I get them nikkers down
She best be prepared for action
3.5's, pump actions, short 9's and MAC-10s is what a n***as grasping when its time for blasting